5 Times Pie Would Have Saved the Day in Classic Literature
It is a truth universally acknowledged that pie is beautiful and delicious, and classic novels are full of characters gritting through their complicated, difficult lives. But what if these characters had a heartwarming slice of pie? Things could have been very different…
1. Captain Ahab. Was ever a man more in need of a slice of coconut cream pie? Like the giant whale Moby Dick, coconut cream pie is large and white, but far less likely to induce unholy fury and a life-shattering revenge spree. Plus, Ahab would have to sail to some beautiful tropic isle to obtain the requisite coconuts, and a balmy tropic vacation could only do good things for his chilly temper.
2. Scarlett O’Hara. This feisty Southern belle has demonstrated time and again that she won’t give her heart away easily. The only solution to her inevitable loneliness is a cherry pie as bold, classic, and all-American as Scarlett herself.
3. Dorian Gray. Rich, dreamy, and devilishly smooth. Are we describing Dorian Gray or a chocolate silk pie? You don’t know, and that’s why they’re the perfect match. Perhaps if Dorian had been able to channel the passions of his youth into eating chocolate pies, he wouldn’t have turned out as dark and bitter as a Ghiradelli 86% cacao bar. Just sayin’.
4. Miss Havisham. Jilted at the altar. Left alone with her misery in a rotting home. Surrounded for years by reminders of her thwarted romance. This woman needs some SUNSHINE in her life, for goodness’ sake! No pie is better suited to the task than a cheery lemon meringue. Its pillowy meringue, sunny yellow curd, and buttery crust are enough to make anyone clear out the cobwebs and start spring cleaning.
5. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Look, man. We know you tried. But heading into a proposal with the general game plan of “Insult family, point out her inferiority, bring up class difference, overwhelm her with ardent love” was a pretty poor strategy, all things considered. Imagine how things might have gone over with Elizabeth B. if you had shown up, casually, with a steaming rhubarb pie. You could have told her her that the bold tartness of the rhubarb reminds you of her stinging wit, but that you believe she could also be subtly sweet. Things could have gone so much better for you, Darcy.
But, since you botched the first proposal attempt, maybe you should go practice swimming in the lake at Pemberley. Don’t ask us why.
But like really. It starts off warm and welcoming, like nothing else in the world, you love your lion, and the longer you pilot, the deeper you sink, the closer you bond, the more of yourself you give, the more of your lion you internalize, until what was you becomes, 24 hrs a day, the walking, talking vessel of your Lion’s Will, possessed and obsessed with the Lion, the exact same way the Lion carries you into firefights. You’re one single unit, and things are right in the universe.
Until a day comes when you fuck it all up, and the Lion decides he’s done with you and uproots right out of your head. You’re tossed like something rancid, and when you confront the prospect of an eternity with this emptiness, it’s enough to make you–
“Apologies for the shirtlessness,” says Tom Hiddleston.
“I didn’t want to show off.” The world’s most impeccably spoken Marvel
baddie is looking awfully embarrassed. I’ve caught him emerging topless
from his trailer, late at night, with female company. The makeup artist
has been in with him, carefully pawing at his torso. Hiddleston is
shooting a movie in Hawaii and, as it is, his skin doesn’t look
sufficiently sun damaged. Muddier stuff is slathered on, and our star is
good to go.
All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there’s naught beyond. But ‘tis enough. He tasks me; he heaps me; I see in him outrageous strength, with an inscrutable malice sinewing it. That inscrutable thing is chiefly what I hate; and be the white whale agent, or be the white whale principle, I will wreak that hate upon him. Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me. For could the sun do that, then could I do the other; since there is ever a sort of fair play herein, jealousy presiding over all creations. But not my master, man, is even that fair play. Who’s over me? Truth hath no confines.
Captain Ahab, explaining his motivation, in Moby-Dick, or The Whale, by Herman Melville.
I can’t stop reading this quote, over and over again. It’s fascinating how passionately, charismatically, unswervingly, unfailingly wrong Ahab is, about absolutely everything.